


Language Making Sense

by xxlovesuicide61xx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxlovesuicide61xx/pseuds/xxlovesuicide61xx
Summary: Muggle University AU: After an amusing encounter in the library with Professor Lupin, Hermione finds herself agreeing with him and wishing for a much closer relationship between the two. A preferably naked one. Where better for Remus to admit his feelings for her than in the middle of one of Hermione's lessons?  (First chapter posted on FFN about a year ago. More chapters upon request. If not, consider it done.)





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: Again, please note that this is a muggle university AU. Based off of an example I had in grammar class last year, admittedly without the cute professor and the flirting.

A/N2: Originally posted in March 2016 on FFN. Decided to add it on here. 

RLHG

Hermione Granger kept her gaze focused firmly on her writing as she took notes in her grammar class Wednesday morning. It wasn’t that Professor Lupin spoke uncommonly quickly or that the information he provided them was particularly difficult, she just couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him as he taught.

Remus Lupin wasn’t your typical university professor. He was surprisingly young, with gray-speckled sandy hair that was much shaggier than entirely appropriate and a comfortable looking wardrobe that suggested he wasn’t paid enough to be able to afford anything better. His eyes were aged, soft in their expressions, and in his three years employed with the university he had never been known to raise his voice to anyone, let alone a student.

None of these things had to do with why Hermione chose him as her guide through the wide world of English Grammar and Literature.

It was because of his hands.

Hermione had seen him frequently at the library during her first two years studying at the university and not a day passed by when his hands didn’t seem to be an absolute mess. His palms were a patchwork of callouses and his fingertips were slightly crooked with indentations from long hours clamped around a pen.

More importantly still was that his hands were covered in ink, assumedly from the aforementioned time spent abusing pens. Time after time, whenever Hermione saw him anywhere, on or off campus, his hands were ink splattered

Before Hermione knew anything of his work in the field language, she knew that she needed to take a class with him. It was a personal philosophy of hers that she could trust someone whose hands were as completely frazzled as her own. A strange belief, but it hadn’t lead her astray yet.

Drawing herself out of her personal reverie of her professor’s hands, Hermione returned her focus back to not paying attention to him. The lecture— of course she paid attention, but she did her best to not acknowledge the speaker of the material.

It was mid-October and the six weeks she formally knew Remus Lupin changed many of her perspectives about him. Due mostly in part by the fact that she kept dreaming about him. Nothing scandalous, mind you, just that he was a prominent feature in them

A typical dream of the two of them consisted of a walk through the woods, autumn leaves crunching under their feet, soft streams of sunlight filtering down between the trees, and his hand strong and sure in hers. At no point during the dream did she actually see his face, oddly enough. She somehow just new that it was him. Whether it was the feeling of safety she felt by his side in the endless woods or the scent of him that tickled her nose on the breeze, somehow she just knew. Thus her current avoidance of his gaze.

Hermione was more than confident in herself to not do anything rash or embarrassing while she was around him, she respected him far too much for that, but she didn’t see a need to add any fuel to fire. It was her goal the last few days to see him as one of her regular professors and not as someone who she could see herself spending a lot of time with. Alone. Preferably naked.

It certainly didn’t help the cause to know that he felt similarly about her. She had found out completely by accident. They were both at the library on campus— nothing odd there— and Hermione needed to print her paper on the Battle of Troy. More pages emerged from the printer than she had written and, assuming she had clicked the print button twice due to every page having her name across the top, she grabbed them all. Imagine her surprise when she turned and was stopped by a flustered Professor Lupin, his eyes darting back and forth between the printer and the pages in her hand rapidly enough to make her dizzy. He was a deer in headlights, torn between turning tail and running for the hills or remaining stagnate and reaping what he’d sown.

“H- Hermione?” Her name was released on a cough. “Forgive me, but I believe you have some of what I printed.” His already soft-spoken voice grew quieter with each word that passed his lips until Hermione had to struggle to make out the final few words.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Professor Lupin, I had a quick look and must’ve missed that.” She kept her voice even, not at all knowing the reason for her admired professor’s distress. She flipped to the back of the pages, not seeing how Remus pulled at his collar or shifted his feet, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the carpet under his shoes. It took Hermione a moment to realize the cause for both her confusion and his discomfort. Her initial assumption was indeed correct— all of the pages did contain her name. The ones she hadn’t printed, however, belonged to the short story she had written for her composition class her first year

Her eyes were uncomprehending as she handed half the stack over to her professor, finally taking stock of his loud broadcast of embarrassment. Hermione could feel the waves of his shame bounce off of her and land downtrodden at the feet his eyes were so intensely glued to.

“You could’ve asked me for a copy, if you wanted.” Remus looked up at her, surprise a green blaze in his eyes. “My version has newer edits and a much more fulfilling ending.” She passed by him to leave, a tight fit seeing how he was still standing in the doorway. “Let me know if you like it.” She left him standing there like a slack-jawed idiot, amazed at what she had implied with her last comment. To a random bystander, sure it was completely innocent. But from his perspective? He was the only who was able to clearly see the look she gave him, the smile that flashed behind her amber eyes. The smallest gleam of mischief that told him that she knew of his feelings. And that she was alright with them.

Now several weeks later, Hermione was still amazed by her audacity. She hadn’t spoken to him about it since, and he hadn’t made any particular effort to seek her out. If he spent a few more hours in the library or in his office while she was in a classroom across the hall, who was she to comment? But she knew she shouldn’t keep him, keep them both, in suspense for much longer. She had needed time to process, after all. It was one thing to innocently admire someone from afar for a few months, but something else entirely to find out that they returned your feelings. To some degree, at least. Hermione wasn’t sure what his full intentions were, but she knew now that she was more than ready to explore what he was willing to offer.

Especially if it involved them both together. Alone. Ideally naked.

Hermione had planned on addressing him after Friday’s class, leaving the weekend open for him, if he needed the time, to think things over. What she hadn’t planned on, however, was for him to make the move before she did. Now. Wednesday morning. During class.

He was lecturing about the differences in word endings— you know -ing, -er, -est— that sort of stuff. Basic things that any respectable university student should know. Being a lover of academics, Professor Lupin was taking the lesson one step further, discussing how and why each ending was used beyond the simple explanation of “Because English.”

“When you break it down, much of it has to do with the syllable count.” The select few students in the classroom who where actually paying attention to the lesson looked like a light bulb just turned on it their heads. “Yes, it is that easy,” Remus laughed in response.

“Think about it— happy, happier, happiest. Fairly simple, yes?” The class nodded their heads in agreement, Hermione keeping her focus on her notes.

“If we continue on— sad, sadder, saddest.” He wrote the six words side by side on the chalkboard, counting the syllables in each word. “When considered in terms of the syllable count, it all works out well, as long as the words don’t go beyond three syllables.” The whole class was staring at him with intrigue, amazed at how he made something as rudimentary as English grammar into something that made actual, semi-logical sense. The whole class except for Hermione. He found himself looking directly at her as he provided his final example.

“Beautiful.” The word slipped into the empty void of the classroom, his voice clear and confident. The students were completely unaware of their professor’s intentions of the example, and the room remained silent for a beat more until Hermione finally looked up at him, blushing as she met his eyes. Her classmates shifted in the pause, antsy for the end of the class.“What about beautiful?” Hermione held his gaze, her brain picking up on just exactly what he was saying. His soft eyes continued to bore into hers. Clearly the example was intended for her. Remus broke eye contact long enough to notice the hand of a student in the back of the room who didn’t quite understand that the posed question was rhetorical.

“Yes, Christopher?” Remus wished that he had kept contact with Hermione for longer, but the teacher inside of him couldn’t help but be pleased with the way the typically quiet student confidently answered the unasked question.

“That’s when you have to use words like more and most, yeah?” Christopher slumped back into his chair, pleased that he had spoken clearly and was definitely smarter than the others in the class. His confident expression dropped into a sloppy grin.

“Of course.” The professor took a moment to respond, needing to snap out of the connection he had formed with the girl in the front row. “Yes, Chris, that is correct.” Eyes flashing to the clock, Remus saw he only had to suffer through another ten minutes before he could speak to Hermione privately.

He ended the lesson by letting the students call out some examples of word/ending combinations that they found ridiculous—not just words like beautifuler, but surprisingly creative words like zombiefiedest and mysteriousest— words that really got the tongue playing with speech patterns. Remus had never expected such a mundane lesson to go so well and was so pleased by the time the bell rang that he almost forgot to be nervous about speaking with Hermione.

She had just shut her bag when he squeezed her name out. “Hermione?” She looked up, shock apparent in her gaze. Evidently she hadn’t expected him to speak with her now. “Would you mind accompanying me to my office for a moment?” A few stragglers remained behind, talking about upcoming parties for the weekend, so he added, “I have some questions about your most recent assignment.”

“Of course, Professor Lupin.” The airheads that had remained filed out the door ahead of them, too oblivious to figure out that the only question their professor could possibly have about the previous assignment would be what kind of pen Hermione used— they had to use five words to summarize the second act of Macbeth; there was hardly any room for confusion on his part.

He lead the way to his office, finding that keeping himself in front of Hermione until they reached the privacy of his office was best for all parties involved— he felt as though he were about to embarrass himself again and would prefer to do so with as little an audience as possible Hermione with the place of honor at the top of the list. Hermione, none the wiser to his actual reasoning, took the opportunity to admire his shoulders as he opened the doors for her and the way his pants pulled tightly across his ass as he took the stairs to the second floor. After all, why should she pass on the opportunity of staring unrestricted at him when it presented itself directly in front of her.

Remus maintained his avoidance of her gaze until he felt the door click shut. “Take a seat, if you’d like.” His tone was caring and casual, as though she had just popped by for tea and a chat. And she supposed that she had, in some twisted sort of logic. Hermione sat on the old couch that ran along the short back wall of the small boxed office, dropping her bag at her feet and crossed one leg over the other. Hands folded in her lap, she looked up at her professor, eyes full of intrigue and innocence. He had leaned back on his desk, perched on the front with his legs braced in front of him, his hands holding him steady at his sides. Shaggy hair had fallen into his face, a dusting of shadows crossing over his eyes in the low lamplight. Heaven forbid he had an office with a window in it. His eyes held an uncertainty and hesitancy that Hermione could tell she would have to be the one to dispel. 

“Remus.” A small smile broke out across his face, subdued to the untrained eye, but it reached his eyes, and Hermione knew that she had said the right thing. “How did you like my story?”

His smile widened and Hermione felt rather pleased with herself— she hadn’t screwed up yet.

“I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, I’m rather interested in what you had mentioned earlier?” Hermione uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “I’d very much like it if- “ He stumbled for a minute, tripping over what he wanted to say and what he was supposed to say. He chickened out and chose the latter. “If you would be kind enough to give me a copy of the updated version.”

Remus watched Hermione lean back on the couch, her face falling just slightly. Wrong thing to say, apparently. He sputtered again, his voice too quiet and his tongue feeling too big for his mouth as he tried to salvage the conversation. “Perhaps it could be delivered and discussed over coffee?”

She visibly perked up at his suggestion, her gaze shifting from his shoes back to his eyes. Right thing— point to Remus.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.” Her confidence hadn’t completely left her, but she was still shy in her answer. Remus found his mind suddenly flying through ideas and emotions, too high in speed and volume for him to sort through.

After a somewhat awkward silence he found his voice, asking “How’s Friday afternoon? Around 2 o’clock?” He had a meeting tomorrow and, more importantly, thought that he should do some hunting around to find his backbone and repair his vocal cords before he saw her next. His boyish charm and good-looks would only get him so far; he’d be expected to hold an actual conversation with her if he had any hope of getting her to agree to see him again.

“Friday afternoon sounds perfect.” Hermione grabbed her bag and stood, making her way toward the door before either one of them had a chance to say or do something else embarrassing. She turned to face him, one hand on the door handle, when she found the need to shock his pants off. Well, almost off. She leaned over and brushed her lips over his cheek, so light that it could have been a spec of dust landing there and he wouldn’t have known the difference. But it wasn’t dust, it was her and she had just kissed him. Sort of. Hermione Granger had just sort of kissed him and he could feel his face heat up. An odd combination of embarrassed and proud, he managed out a slightly strangled “Goodbye, Hermione.”

She smiled at him, her eyes reflecting the low light so that he could see his own outline glimmer inside them.  
“Bye, Remus.” She scurried out the door, ending what would have been a brief exchange between two normal, regular people, but had turned out to be a ten minute affair for them. Remus crossed to the couch she had just occupied, collapsed into the worn sofa and grabbed one of the equally worn throw pillows, buried his face into in and let out a massive sigh. He leaned his head against the soft material of the couch, half of his face completely buried between the couch and the pillow, hoping they would suck him in. He could smell her shampoo lingering on the material where her hair had been and he inhaled until he was light-headed. Slumping as deep into the sofa as he could, a goofy, dumbfounded grin took over his entire face. He hadn’t completely cocked that up. He had a date. Well, more of a meeting, but still. He had a meeting set up with Hermione Granger for Friday afternoon. For coffee. With her. Them. Together.

His laughter echoed in the small room, shocking him back into reality. He jumped to his feet, feeling much lighter than before, grabbed some books and papers from his desk, and dashed out the door, the click of the lock now a comfort as it has lost its ominous sound. He was late for his next class.

RLHG

A/N: I’ve had this written for about 10 days and was trying to get it just right by editing it four thousand times. I’ve reached the point where I’m sick of sitting on it and just want to know what you guys think already.

I hope you enjoyed it. :D Let me know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-date jitters can get a little complicated. Particularly when speaking is involved.

A/N: Finally another chapter!! A few people have requested a second chapter, so this would be it... written a year later. In my defense I intended it to only been a one-shot. I've been working on this for the last few weeks, so I'm hoping that it lives up to the year long wait. Let me know! :D

RLHG

Friday dawned much bleaker than Remus had anticipated. He had a meeting with the Dean of the English Department, something which he was far from excited about. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what the Dean wanted to discuss. Remus wasn’t tenured, wasn’t even considered a proper professor yet, and he hadn’t done anything out of line. So what was the issue?

His meeting the previous day had gone well enough, he supposed. It was a rather brief meeting with another one of the department professors- Professor Severus Snape. He had entered the meeting surprisingly chipper, still high off of his talk with Hermione the day before. His high had only been increased when he had knocked on the door to Snape's office and Hermione was the one who answered. He had forgotten that she was currently in Snape's Greek Literature class. She held a rather thick paper in her hand, and he could tell from her smile that she had received a good grade. Hermione's hand had covertly brushed against his own as she walked out. Professor Snape had scowled even more, clearly not at all pleased with his colleague's good mood.

Remus slept in past his alarm and rushed through his shower desperately trying to remember what clothing he owned so he could look somewhat nice for his date (meeting) with Hermione. He was toweling off when he was blessed with the perfect idea.

Body still somewhat damp, hair clumped together and sticking up at odd angles from his towel, he raced to his closet and felt his excitement deflate. It wasn’t clean. He had only one really nice shirt, a birthday gift his best friend gave him a few years ago. It was a very expensive, beautifully colored shirt. It was a shade of green that he never would’ve picked out for himself, but that made the color of his eyes shine brighter than he had ever seen them. He was convinced that the shirt was made from magic.

Hermione would’ve loved it. She probably wouldn’t tell him, but she would at least silently appreciate it. But it wasn’t clean. He wore it the previous weekend when he went out with the same friend who purchased it. They had gone to a fancier restaurant, Sirius wanting to try and find a new girlfriend for the week, and he had insisted that Remus wear it. He claimed that he couldn't have his wingman looking shabby. Now, he cursed his friend for forcing him into it. Hermione would've swooned at seeing him in that shirt. Okay... maybe not a full on swoon, but he hoped that she would have at least complimented him. Not that he was fishing for compliments. 

Damn he was running late.

He found one of his favorite sweaters, although it was far from being considered appropriate for a public engagement. It was an old, worn down maroon cardigan. The material was extremely soft to the touch from many washings, and it was rather tattered. The edges of his sleeves were frayed and there were holes near the bottom where it had gotten caught on books and pens. It was missing more buttons than it had left, and there was a permanent coffee stain near his left shoulder from a long forgotten mishap. Nowadays, he only really wore it when he couldn't afford to keep his heat on and possessed the desire to continue writing his novel late into the night. It was a strictly around-the-house only sweater, and it was all he appeared to have. Damn Sirius.

He threw on the rest of his clothes, uncaring of the pair of mismatched, but clean, socks that he found. He located his shoes hiding under the worn out chair he frequented and practically sprinted to his beat up car. Grateful for the quarter tank of gas in it, he sped off to the university.

He had a date to get to.

RLHG

Hermione awoke Friday morning bright and early as usual, but this time with a slight skip in her step.

She was meeting Remus today.

She knew she had no right to feel all that excited-- it was just coffee, after all-- but she couldn't seem to help the desire to treat it like an actual date. She took extra care with what she wore that day and made certain that her hair would stay relatively normal, tornadoes and hurricanes notwithstanding.

Hermione would be the first to admit that she wasn't head over heels for Remus, but she did possess a certain spark inside of her that made her want to spend a lot of time alone. With him. Hopefully naked. It wasn't total lust and it wasn't total love. She didn't know what it was. But it was there. And she was determined to follow it.

She had been both thrilled and embarrassed when she ran into Remus the day before. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't been leaving Professor Snape's office. She knew for a fact that the two didn't really get along. The smile she had on her face probably didn't help matters, either. She was just pleased that Snape had actually given her a good grade on her paper.

She didn't want Remus to think that he wasn't special to her, that he didn't mean all that much to her, that she also had a thing for Professor Snape. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the idea of Remus being jealous, but she didn't want to lose the chance he was giving her over some trivial misunderstanding of professors and crushes.

Hermione wanted to make her time today with Remus worthwhile, and, in her typical over prepared fashion, she had drawn up a mental list of possible topics of conversation. She didn't mind the occasional moment of comfortable, companionable silence, but she wasn't sure where he stood on the matter. She also didn't want him thinking she was disinterested in what he had to say, or that she herself was incapable of producing intelligent conversation for more than five minutes.

Hermione knew she was overthinking her day entirely, but didn't know what else to do. She hated to admit it, but she was nervous. This would be her first time really talking with a male as someone with whom she was interested in, but who also knew of her interest in him and actually returned it. She hated the ambiguity of it-- it was just easier to call it a date-- but knew that with his job it was important that it seem like any other ordinary meeting between professor and student. No desires of mutual nakedness. Nope, not here.

RLHG

Remus felt like he was having a heart attack as he struggled to keep his head down as his students walked in for his second to last class on Friday. Hermione's class. He couldn't let on that anything was different or that any special plans had been made. He didn't even know if she was in the room yet, but he knew that he couldn't teach the full period keeping his eyes planted on his desk.

Okay. He could do this.

Eyes shooting up, they landed on Hermione walking through the door. Great timing, Remus. Really, well done.

Eyes back on his desk, he did whatever he could to keep himself calm. He had no right to get this worked up, but he couldn't wait for their coffee date where they could talk normally and Hermione looked especially lovely today and he felt his hormones going into overdrive.

The sound of the bell ringing is what ultimately brought Remus out of himself and back into the real world. Teacher time. Right.

This was going to be a long class.

RLHG

Hermione did her best to act normally in her class with Remus, and actually managed to do fairly well. The only give would be if someone looked at her notebook and saw all of her cutesy love doodles. Other than that, notes were taken, questions were answered, and class remained relatively normal.

She could tell that Remus was a little off today, looking somewhat more disheveled than usual and getting rather flustered if someone asked him a direct question. Or if he looked at her. She could tell by his eyes that it was more through her than actually at her, but she figured it was because he didn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary. He was managing. Sort of.

Hermione let go of a small smile when her professor repeatedly stumbled over spelling the word guarantee- trying to make a point about double vowels- and finally asked for one of the students to spell it for him. He was adorable when he was nervous. His messed up hair probably added to the look.

She couldn't help but keep making note of the sweater he was wearing. An old cardigan, it looked ready to fall apart. And yet she was enamored with it. It looked even softer than his usual sweaters and perfect for cuddling with a book in front of a fire. New fantasy item acquired: one ratty maroon cardigan.

The class somehow flew by, and before Hermione could start on a second page of doodles, the bell rang. One of her classmates, Christopher, grabbed his massive backpack and ran past Hermione, nearly taking her head off. He stopped in front of Remus and started speaking quickly. Hermione couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but figured that this gave her a chance to slip out before Remus noticed. She would have just enough time to run back to her apartment and check that her hair, clothes, and makeup still looked good, as well as drop off her bag and grab her updated short story. That was why they were meeting, after all. She couldn't very well forget it.

Knowing that Remus had another class now somehow helped to lessen her anxiety. She would have more time to relax and mentally prepare. He was stuck running from the classroom straight to the coffee shop. She felt a little bad for him, but it was still a comfort nonetheless.

She really, really hoped that today would go well.

RLHG

Professor Remus Lupin booked it out of his classroom as the bell rang at exactly 1:50 pm. He knew it wasn't quite appropriate- he should be open to student questions and concerns- but he didn't want to keep Hermione waiting. After Chris had bombarded him after his 12 o'clock class, he couldn't risk getting caught in another confused web of student misunderstanding. He knew that most of the students wouldn't care, and the rest would assume he had a meeting or that he really had to pee. He didn't particularly care one way or the other.

He had a girl to go meet.

He raced through the hall, trying and spectacularly failing at taking the stairs two at a time. He had to fight against a torrent of students running towards their weekend, a night of drinking and parties ahead of them. Most students didn't seem to understand the concept of two lanes-- one going up the stairs and one going down. That made far too much sense for them. By the time he finally made it to his office, it was already 1:53 and Remus felt himself start to panic.

He threw his notes and textbooks down, grabbed his bag, and flew back down the stairs, near power walking to the coffee shop in his anxiety.

Convinced he had developed control over time itself, he made it to the coffee house with two minutes to spare, his calf muscles surprisingly sore and small beads of sweat near his temples. The line to order was short, most students already on their weekend relaxation high and not needing the caffeinated pick-me-up that was common on every other day of the week. He ordered an English Breakfast tea, despite it being well into the afternoon. Finding a table in the front corner, he sat and awaited her arrival.

Tea untouched, it wasn't long before she walked in. She looked beautiful.

He watched as she went and ordered, watching the barista make her drink. She picked up her cup and turned, eyes searching for him. He could tell the moment she found him, a smile peeking at the corners of her mouth.

Hermione walked over to him, and the closer she got the tighter his nerves became. His mouth went dry and his tongue became one giant knot between his teeth. He didn't know what to do. He just froze, staring at her.

"Hi, Remus."

His vocal chords ripped in half, split right down the middle, silencing his already pathetic attempts at a hello. So much for finding that backbone. He could feel the awkward seeping out of her and mingling mid-air with his embarrassment. It made the air strangely thick, like a brick wall appeared by magic. Hermione's eyes were confused and her body tense, but she proved the stronger of the two and pulled out the chair opposite him.

"I knew they served the coffee here piping hot, but I was unaware it could burn the speech right off your tongue." She smiled at him and took off her scarf.

"Tea."

He heard a strange voice bring up the beverage, and it seemed odd that it relatively in context. The look on her face changed as she tilted her head to look at him. They sat in silence for a moment before her quizzical expression clued him in.

The bizarre, pathetic squawk of a voice had been him.

Remus felt the blood rushing in his face, his cheeks burning red. He cleared his throat and straightened up to the point of discomfort, feeling a fool of himself.

"I'm actually drinking tea, not coffee." His voice sounded small, even to him. He didn't want to guess what she thought of him now. 5 minutes in and he'd already blown his shot.

He stopped, shocked by himself. That sounded way dirtier than it ought to.

He pulled the fractured remains of his self-confidence and focused back on Hermione, who's eyes were wide and sparkling, her face growing redder by the second.

His face changed from crestfallen to flabbergasted and laughter burst forth from the girl across the table.

Sides hurting, Hermione wiped tears from the corner of her eyes and tried to reign in her laughter.

"Remus," she choked out. "You haven't blown your shot with me."

A final giggle escaped her lips and she calmed, taking a sip of what he knew had to be a vanilla latte.

Remus felt his face flood white and shut his eyes, slumped to the table, his head hung in shame.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" His voice was still quiet, but at least he sounded like himself.

Another giggle, this time hidden behind a blue-tipped hand. "I'm afraid so."

Remus set his jaw, still barely looking up at her, clenched his hands and pushed his chair back from the table.

"Right then." He couldn't bring himself to fight through the embarrassment and apologize to her for wasting her time. A soft pressure on his hand stopped him in his tracks, body poised halfway between a sit and a stand, most of his body's pressure pushing down on his legs.

"Remus, wait." Her eyes were a soft brown, her emotions shining through. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. You just caught me off guard." He stayed silent, unsure of what to say. He had a sinking feeling that his embarrassment was sneaking up on him again.

"I meant what I said when you didn't lose your shot. To be honest, I'm honored that you even gave me a chance in the first place."

This all was said with his body still poised awkwardly. Remus wouldn't call himself an unfit man, but his legs were beginning to hurt. He sat down with a sigh, closed his eyes, dropping his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, grateful for the kind relief he saw in his student's soft one.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm just a bit nervous."

She placed her hand back on his, giving his thoughts somewhere to anchor to. Her hands were soft and her fingernails were a pale shade of blue. They looked lovely.

"It's okay. I am, too." He gave her a look that crossed somewhere between surprise and disbelief.

"Really?"

She squeezed his hand, letting go and picking her latte back up. She looked down at the lid rather bashfully for a moment, before raising her eyes back to his.

"Really."

Remus felt a strange warmth run through him-- a tingle, almost. She was just as nervous as he was. Much, much better at disguising and controlling it than he was, but still nervous nonetheless.

Hmm. Maybe this wouldn't go as horribly as he thought it would. With any luck, he could actually pull this off. Just maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this for awhile. I think I finally got it right... rightish. Anyway, Hermione's texts are in italics and Remus's are both italicized and underlined. Please enjoy. :D

Hermione sat in Remus's class, eagerly waiting for him to pass back her homework. It was stupid to enjoy that brief moment of eye contact, but she couldn't help herself. His eyes were so sweet. It took what felt like ages for him to reach her row. When he finally did, he handed her the stack with great delicacy. There was a paperclip precariously holding her assignment together. She hadn't handed it in that way. She didn't think she did, anyway. He gave a subtle wink at her and moved to the next row.

Carefully grabbing her assignment by the paperclip, Hermione took her homework off the top of the pile and passed the rest back behind her. Instead of immediately flipping to the back page to check on her grade, she took her time leafing through the pages, hoping to find whatever it was that he had added. Two pages in, she found an envelope hiding inside. Written on the front was a brief message in Remus's messy handwriting. Hermione, please wait to open this until you are alone. It wasn't signed, but it was obviously from him. He had sent her a letter? She didn't know whether to be confused or flattered.

Keeping to his request, she left the envelope where she found it, not wanting to draw any attention to the odd paper out, and continued on to the last page. She was pleased to find she had received top marks.

Remus finished returning their work and took up his regular spot at the front of the room, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, but otherwise looking normal. He began the lesson, Hermione settling in to enjoy 50 minutes of unashamed and unquestioned enjoyment of listening to his voice.

RLHGRLHG

_Hermione,_

_I understand that this may seem a bit strange, but I was unsure as how to proceed. Coffee with you on Friday was lovely. I enjoyed our time immensely. I confess the main purpose of this letter is because I was too much of a coward to ask for your phone number. I've never been in a situation like this and wasn't sure if it would be considered appropriate. If you wouldn't mind us having a more reliable method of communication, than please feel free to make use of the phone number I have rather awkwardly included down below. I hope it's evident that I would enjoy being able to keep in touch with you on a day-to-day basis. I must also confess that I haven't had conversation as stimulating as ours on Friday in a long, long time. It is my sincerest hope that you found as much enjoyment in our meeting as I did._

_I pray that you heeded the letter's warning and are reading this comfortably in your dormitory. Lord knows how mortified I would be if I had to watch you read it during class._

_I do hope to hear from you, Hermione. Soon._

_Wishing you well,_

_Remus_

_P.S. You really did do rather well on this assignment. No bias included. ;)_

She couldn't believe it. He had sent her a secret letter. And it was adorable. The poor man. He sounded so awkward and shy. She could imagine him sitting at his desk in his office, trying to figure out what to say. She laughed aloud when she thought about what his hair must've looked like while writing it. He had that habit of running his hands through it when he was nervous. Shaggy though his hair may be, it did still have quite the tendency to stick up at the odd angle. She felt a tingle in her stomach, remembering all of the times she had pictured her as the reason for his hair being out of sorts.

She sighed.

Hermione was glad that she had the room to herself, for the moment at least. Her roommate, Ginny, was a year below her and the sister of her friend Ron. Ginny's boyfriend, Harry, and Ron ate, slept, and breathed basketball. Ginny, on the other hand, practically lived in the water, apparently having both played water polo and swam and dived for her high school teams. Odds were that Ginny was either on the upper part of campus swimming laps in the pool or at the gym watching Harry and Ron in a pickup game with some guys from the dorm across from them. Thank God for her sports obsessed friends.

She read over the letter twice more before finding her phone, which had somehow managed to wedge itself between her mattress and the wall. She looked down at the number Remus had left and pressed the "Create New Contact" prompt on her screen. Number typed in, she hesitated on what to call it. Professor Lupin was way too formal, and Remus was too casual should someone see who she was texting. Plus, if luck was on her side, she would eventually have some very incriminating messages from him, and she didn't want to get him into trouble.

After some hard thinking, she decided on keeping the name secret, labeling the number with a Wolf emoji. She found it fitting. His name was hiding in plain sight.

True, not really a secret to those intelligent enough to know anything about language or Roman history, but she thought it was cute all the same. The little cartoon canine smiled up at her, a blank message box beneath it. Would she seem too desperate if she sent him a message now? Should she wait? Hermione thought back to her letter and the coffee she had with Remus. Screw it. She wanted to talk to him.

After about ten minutes of debating what to say, she settled on something simple and elegant.

_Hey._

Was the period too strong of an ending? Did she come off too forceful? Wait. She didn't say the message was from her. Would he know? How many people did he give his number out to? Probably not that many. She hoped.

_It's me. I loved your letter._

There. That clarified things. Didn't it?

She sighed. Why was a simple greeting so difficult?

RLHGRLHG

Remus was sat in his office, pretending to grade papers. Really he was wondering if it was possible for someone to suffer a heart attack instead of a combined panic and anxiety attack. Had the letter been a bad idea? Was it too personal? Too casual? Too forceful? Should he have not included his number? How the hell was Sirius capable of chatting up six women at once when he couldn't even manage expressing his interest to one. And he wasn't even doing it in person.

He had just begun contemplating changing his name and becoming an animal researcher when his phone buzzed loudly on his desk. The professor jumped out of his skin, his body physically leaving his chair for a few moments. He hadn't expected anything to break the relative silence of his racing heart. He was just pleased that he hadn't shouted out in his alarm. The last thing he needed now was another professor intruding on him, asking if he was alright. It would've been a relative answer.

Remus looked back to the source of the noise. It couldn't be her, could it? Not so soon.

The clock on his phone told him it had been roughly an hour since her class had been let out. It also said he had a text message from an unknown number. He continued to stare at the phone. It could be her. It definitely could be.

His phone vibrated again in his hands and he nearly dropped it. Two messages in less than five minutes. It had to be her.

His too large fingers pushed the "OK" button on his old phone, and the messages popped up. They were from her. His heart stopped beating. She loved his letter. His heart jolted back into rhythm, shoving the blood up into his face, unable to help the blush from forming. Hermione had actually sent him a message. Two, in fact. She wanted to talk to him.

Yet again, she had managed to make him feel giddy, like he was sixteen again. Although the more he thought it through, he hadn't exactly had much luck with the opposite sex when he was a teenager. Well. He was older and wiser now. What could go wrong?

Thinking it over, Remus realized that he was doing the best with Hermione when he spoke from the heart. Perhaps it would be better to not overthink things.

_Hey. I'm glad you liked it. It wasn't anything special, I'm certainly no Hemingway, but I hoped that you might want to talk since Friday was so lovely. I figured asking you to stay after class didn't seem all that romantic._

Between the size difference in his thumbs and the buttons on the phone and the fact that most of the buttons tended to stick, it took him awhile to reply. He hoped that she didn't mind. Wasn't as panicked about the whole situation as he was.

Remus surprisingly enjoyed using the T9 text setting on his phone. He was intrigued by the linguistic decisions behind it, and he had become rather adept at using it. Having what was for all intents and purposes a completely obsolete cell phone did have its advantages.

He glanced again at the clock, sighing when he saw he had to go prep for an extra study session he had promised his freshmen.

Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his bag and headed out of his office.

RLHGRLHG

Hermione smiled, pleased by his use of the word romantic. It was nice to know that they were on the same page.

_Thank God you're not Hemingway. Don't tell Professor Thewlis, but I hate Hemingway's writing and that entire group of ragtag expatriates._

_And I agree. Friday was wonderful, and I would like to continue talking._

RLHGRLHG

Remus's phone buzzed in his pocket, making him stumble over his lecture on basic formatting. His freshmen didn't even blink an eye. Surprisingly, they were actually paying attention to him. Those that showed up, at least. Ten out of thirty-five wasn't all that bad. Actually, he was rather impressed.

His thigh burned where he felt his phone pressing against his skin. He needed to check it. But how... group work time!

"Alright everyone. I want you to write a paragraph on the first time you rode a bike. You have ten minutes. When the timer goes off, pair up and swap paragraphs. Edit each other's and we'll come back together to discuss common issues."

Ten heads nodded back up at him, before dropping down and focusing on their notebooks. Point to him for such quick thinking on his feet. He'd love to see a history professor do that.

Her text made him choke, an attempt at covering a laugh with a cough. She hated Hemingway? He kept smiling down at the text. It was nice to see that they were on the same page, at least where Expatriate literature was concerned.

He felt like one of his students with his phone hiding underneath his desk. Sure, he was the professor and could have it out if he wanted, but he didn't want to be a hypocrite to his students. They respected him enough (usually) to not use them unless he specifically asked. Most professors would never allow personal cell phones to be used in class, but they were actually very beneficial. True, Remus had to do all of his work through the classroom computer, whether assisting or moderating. As he started clicking out his response, he desperately wished that he was like his students and had a smartphone. Or at least rich parents to buy him one. Sirius often told him that he should just buy one and write it off his taxes as a work expense, but A.He didn't have enough money to buy one in the first place and B. He managed answering his emails in a timely manner just fine.

It was just his texts to Hermione Granger that took forever.

He did his best and kept from cursing aloud, wanting to crush the too small, pathetic piece of plastic in his hand. He'd prefer speaking to her face to face, but for now it was better this way. He was considerably less awkward with this written form of communication, and he didn't have to worry about stuttering over his words or forgetting his own name. Or hers. God, that would be awful.

He watched as the little envelope finally popped off his screen and a green check mark appeared in its place. He glanced at the clock. If she replied immediately, he might have time to read her response before he had to get back to his students.

Glancing up, he took note how they were all doing, which seemed surprisingly well. His phone buzzed and he let out a sigh of relief. He opened his message thread to Hermione.

_ Haha. Don't worry, you're secret's safe with me. To be honest, I'm not his biggest fan either. I had been reading an article on him earlier, and the name was in my head. I was wondering if you're free around the same time this Friday, if you'd like to meet again? _

_I'd love to, but--_

"Professor Lupin?" He looked up abruptly. His students were staring at him.

Apparently the timer alarm had been going off for the last 20 seconds. He hadn't even noticed.

Remus's hand dropped his phone on his desk, jumping over to the computer mouse. Alarm silenced, he got up and stood before his students. It seemed more teachery. More "authoritative". Then again, he alluded as much authority as a chipmunk wearing a sweater.

"How many of you feel confident with your paragraphs? Honest answers now, here. No judgement. Show of hands."

Four hands tentatively rose, not quite reaching full extension.

"Okay then. Swap papers with the person sitting next to you. Ten students, five pairs. You'll have five minutes to go through and edit your partner's paragraph. If you have pens in a different colored ink, that would be preferred."

The freshmen students shuffled around in their pockets and bags, and all were able to either produce or borrow an unusually colored writing implement and a paragraph that was not their own.

"Everyone ready?" Ten heads nodded up at him. "Go."

The timer started and the classroom fell into silence once again. Picking up his phone, Remus went straight back to Hermione's message.

_I'd love to, but I already have plans. I promised my roommate that I would help her study for one of her midterms._

He felt his heart drop. Damn. He had really wanted to see her again. Did she not want to see him? Should he offer up a different day or time? Did she want a more serious type of date instead of just a coffee shop discussion?

He knew that he should give a more accepting answer, but he stuck with brief and polite.

_ Oh. Okay. Perhaps another time, then. _

He watched the message send and put his phone back into his pocket. His giddy high had gone way down.

The timer counted down the last ten seconds and Remus stopped it the moment it started buzzing. He could feel a headache coming on and that annoying sound was the last thing he needed to hear.

His students jumped up in unison, startled, clearly unprepared for their time to be up. Remus stood again.

"Alright, now I know you all probably haven't finished, but that's alright." His voice was softer than it had been before, his eyes a bit dimmer. "Swap your papers back and go over the changes that you've made with each other. I'll be stopping at each group to check your work and offer my advice."

By the time Remus was halfway done and with the third group, he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He wanted to check it, but he also didn't want to be even more disappointed than he already was. He finished with all ten of them, reminding them to use what they've learned in their other classes, as well as the fact that he was assigning their next paper the following Monday.

It wasn't until he was back sat in his office that he finally checked his phone. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

_I'm completely free tonight, though. Only if you wanted to, that is._

A second message buzzed in as he was reading. The time stamp showed almost half an hour had passed.

_If you don't want to, that's fine, too. I understand. If you don't want to._

His fingers had never flown so quickly.

_I do!_

Maybe he was over eager. Maybe it was creepy. But he didn't want her to feel like he didn't want to spend time with her. He knew what that felt like. But not so much anymore. He was going to see her tonight. Because she wanted to. She wanted to see him.

His giddy feeling... it was back.


End file.
